


To catch an angel

by emocsibe



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocsibe/pseuds/emocsibe
Summary: It was there all along, and Vasquez only now realized it, in that exact moment when the ground shook with such a tremor it almost pushed him off his feet – or maybe it was the dawning realization that something had caused that horrid explosion. No; someone had caused it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SheenaWilde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheenaWilde/gifts).



When Chisolm had first shown them his wings, Vasquez sat down harder on the ground than he intended, inwardly cursing at the rocky Horne clasped his hands and almost started to pray, but Sam had only shaken his head, and said a silent but powerful ‘no need’ to him.  
“I don’t need – no, I don’t want to hear that. I failed. I’m here for a reason.”  
He said no more, and they all went with it. Billy tilted his head at him, his eyes shining up a bright yellow for a moment, then fading back to the dark brown he usually sported. Vasquez pretended that he didn’t notice, but he felt shivers run down on his back and could swear that Billy looked at him with a contemplative glance. He knew nothing about angels – hell, this was the first time he’d heard about them being real, for Christ’s sake –, but he had the inkling that whatever Billy was, it wasn’t even remotely close to anything borne of heaven. They rode in Rose Creek and there, seeing Sam shoot Bogue’s men without a twitch of his mouth, without a look of mercy in his eyes, he decided that angels weren’t as holy and docile as the images in his abuela’s Bible had shown them to be at all.

When Faraday stood behind him, back to back, ready to take down every single threat, he felt at peace. It was odd, to get this sense of security in the middle of a battle, bullets flying around his head, but he went with it. Maybe the life as a chased outlaw started to bear fruit and arm him up against the nerves that threatened to weaken him – or maybe it was that idiot of a man at his back, that got him this relaxed. It was as if he’d started to trust Faraday as soon as he met him, despite the, let’s say, weird, greeting he got after the man almost fell off of his horse with all his drunken grace. He was glad that he would fight on the same side as Faraday, because in all honesty, he wouldn’t be pleased to have to fight against such skills.

He watched him during the week, he watched him build and sweat through his shirt, and he saw him getting on people’s nerves, and he saw him laugh. He observed every move he made without even knowing it, and he never once could stop himself from reacting to any of them. At the cabin, where they were working together, he only needed a glance at Faraday to know that he was either a greater fool he’d imagined or had a death wish. Smoking next to gun powder was something that would normally set someone on the edge, make them wish to be anywhere but there or nearby, and this idiotic man was just smirking at him when he’d commented on it, and he even had the guts to throw the cigar at him. What an absolutely irritating fool. And then there were those smiles he sent his way, sweet, charming smiles that Vasquez was sure weren’t meant for him. Maybe someone at his back.

And then they fought side by side, and then, Vasquez had to look away just for a few seconds, and that was enough for Faraday to get shot. He couldn’t think straight until the man who had hurt Faraday was lying in a now broken coffin, but then he cursed at himself. He just barged out of the relative safety of the church to avenge a wound on a man whom he wasn’t even sure considered him a friend. But he had to, ha had felt the need to hurt back – even though the wound was not inflicted upon him, it was as if he had also felt the pain. It was curios, but he had no time to dwell on it. They had a fight to win.

When he shouted ‘andale guero’ he thought Faraday had a plan. He thought Faraday would return. If he had known what he was encouraging Faraday to do, he might have bitten off his own tongue. But he did not know, and did not bit it off – he shouted and Faraday rode to his death.

It was a bitter realisation, it was a feeling he should have been happy to feel after all the years he thought it was lost forever. It was there all along, and Vasquez only now realized it, in that exact moment when the ground shook with such a tremor it almost pushed him off his feet – or maybe it was the dawning realization that something had caused that horrid explosion. No; someone had caused it. Faraday had caused it. And the feeling he’d only now discovered in his heart, it flared up and died down with a terrible shriek in his soul, a shocked, pained noise, one that sounded like a rusty ‘guero no’ shouted at the still hovering cloud of dust and torn clothes and… and Vasquez wanted to never think about what else was there blown up, what else he couldn’t bury, what else he couldn’t look at just one more time. What he’d found, what he’d only realised, it felt like ice-cold water poured into his chest, stopping his heart with its sudden coldness, the feeling sinking down into his legs, seeping into his bones until his eyes burnt with unshed tears, until he realised he had taken no breath since the explosion that just erased the man he wanted to befriend, the man he wanted to embrace and kiss and love, from existence. He loved Faraday, and now his love was lost on a dead man.

His head was swaying and he almost tripped in his own leg as he rushed to the field, as he closed in on the blackened ground, the metal and wood rubble left there, and the pieces of people he recognised. A torn part of a coat, a handle of a gun, a single spur, and cards. Bloodied, battered and singed pieces of a stack, only a few, and feathers? Why were there so many feathers on the ground? It was as if a whole flock of birds decided to jump into the middle of the explosion. Suddenly there was a sound, a faint creaking noise, as if broken bones were being forced to move, and a shadow – no, no; a soot and smoke darkened wing spread out, painfully slowly and with that terrible sound growing louder and louder – and then there it was: a tapered wing, one like Sam’s only in what looked like brown under the grime, full with holes and broken feathers, and cards. He crouched down, and spooned under the bloody mass of feathers, and lifted it, and the crackling sound got louder, and then there was a yelp.

“I couldn’t have offended you that much, ouch, let it go, please” and Vasquez all but dropped the broken wing in surprise. It was Faraday. He was alive. Or Vasquez had died too. Not that it mattered, really – they were at the same place after all.

“Guerito?”

Vasquez was sure he wasn’t breathing or blinking, he was just staring at the man in front of him, slowly untangling himself from his wings. Then he breathed in, and wanted to talk, but it emerged as a shaken sob, and in the next second he was pulling Faraday close, everything be damned. He was alive.

“How? Guerito, how?”

“Eh, surprise? I didn’t want to bring this up. It has the tendency of complicating things.”

“Things? What things?” Vasquez loosened his grip on his back as the feathers started to blaze, and the roots of his wings fell off with a horrible crack. He thought that if anyone ever needed a definition of ‘scared to death’ he could volunteer to describe it afterwards. Faraday just shrugged his shoulders as if nothing had happened, and grinned weakly at him.

“Happens. It will grow back.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it will” Vasquez was still numb from all what he’d been witnessing in these last moments, but then he remembered his own question “What things would it complicate?”

“For a start, would you ever consider kissing an angel?”

“I might be right now.”

He cradled Faraday’s cheek with his left hand, and pulled him closer, until they were only an inch apart – which was closed by Faraday, quickly, as if he was afraid that it was not real. Vasquez understood that, he had the same fleeting feeling for a moment, but then he just let himself get lost in that kiss, slow and sweet and much needed. Faraday was alive, and he was kissing him. Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t too late for loving him after all.


End file.
